The whispers start small, an offhand comment here, a speculative post there. But soon, the rumor catches fire: Souta turned down Mizuno Hana because he's secretly dating Ruby. Absurd. Hurtful. And impossible.
Ruby stares at her phone, exasperated.
"We're siblings! Why do people insist on making things weird?"
Souta watches the chaos unfold, silent for a long moment before muttering, almost to himself, "Should I just… erase the rumor from reality?"
Aqua doesn't hesitate—he grabs Souta by the collar.
"No reality warping over gossip!"
They deal with it like any normal people would—well, as normal as possible. A quick, well-timed video does the trick: Ruby grinning into the camera and calling Souta "the most annoying little brother in Japan." The internet, ever fickle, pivots. The rumor dies. The banter goes viral.
Then comes the real disaster.
Exams arrive. And somehow—somehow—Souta flunks his math test.
Ruby and Aqua stare at the grade in disbelief.
"You can literally bend time," Ruby says, eyes wide. "How did you get a 43?"
Face in his hands, Souta groans. "I promised I wouldn't cheat. I tried to do it normally…"
Turns out, for all his cosmic knowledge, high school math was never part of it. So Ai steps in. And Happy—always eager to help—becomes his tutor.
"Think of the numbers as 'feelings,'" Happy explains patiently. "The equation balances when love is mutual."
It's a ridiculous metaphor, but somehow, it works. Souta barely scrapes by on the retake.
Then the school announces an inter-class performance competition—acting, music, or a mix of both.
Souta's class picks an original play and asks him to direct it. The request catches him off guard.
"Why me?"
A classmate hesitates before answering, their voice soft.
"Because you make us feel like we're part of something bigger. Even when it's scary."
Souta agrees. But there's no magic involved. No powers.
Not to win.
But to connect.
Meanwhile, tensions bubble elsewhere. Sasaki Mei, former idol club president, corners Ruby in the hallway.
"You think you're better than me because you're famous? Because you're pretty?"
Ruby doesn't blink. "No. I just think I'm better than who you think I am."
Later, Souta finds Mei sitting alone, tears slipping quietly down her face.
"No one sees me anymore," she whispers. "You all shine so much."
Souta sits beside her, offering his lunch.
"Then let me see you. Start there."
She doesn't answer. But she doesn't pull away either.
The play—The Light We Can't See—unfolds before a packed auditorium. It's about three siblings born without color in a world where emotions are visible hues. A quiet metaphor for fame, depression, and family.
No powers are used.
But people feel something beyond themselves.
And as the final curtain falls, as Souta steps forward for the last bow, someone in the crowd stands up.
Mizuno Hana.
She meets his gaze, lips forming silent words.
"You're incredible."